


Soft sweet things

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: F/F, For Science!, Mild Kink, Praise Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, period correct underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: A femmeslash pairing that no one asked for.Sara Howard pays a certain Mrs. Williams a visit to gain insight.





	Soft sweet things

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is merely some procrastination. But I'm sad that a work with a canon dominatrix doesn't have her featuring in more fic. 
> 
> Sara is wearing a chemise because OMFG did none of the costume designers consider the CHAFING. 
> 
> Not beta read.

“Aren’t you _lovely_ ,” the woman says - or rather purrs. More feline than feminine, Dr. Kriezler had said. There is something of the common housecat about her; a rather coquettish cruelty, like Sara is a small furry creature who has scurried into her line of sight. But Sara’s seen lions too. Mrs. Williams has the same confidence as an apex predator. Sara stiffens at the compliment. Words like lovely and pretty and sweet have their place but not in describing her. From the flicker of amusement in Mrs. Williams’s eyes, the effect was intentional.

“In my letter I explained -”  
“What you wanted, yes. Experience without scandal.”

Sara’s lips are very dry. She nods. Her hands clutch into the fabric of her skirt. 

“Well, then. You decide. Submission or domination?”

She stares mutely at the woman, aware that she is already slick and aching. There’s a strange sense of exhilaration, as well. When, out riding as a girl, she had taken a more daring jump than she was supposed to -

“Come now, Miss Howard. I don’t have all day.”

“Submission,” Sara says. Mrs Williams moves over to her, perches on the arm of the couch. 

“A fine choice,” she says. “Start out at the bottom. Learn empathy. Or so our mutual friend says. Not that I was ever any good at that, of course.”

 

She lifts Sara’s chin, examines her. Runs a thumb across Sara’s lips. 

“Suck,” she murmurs. Sara opens her mouth, does so. 

“Good girl,” Mrs. Williams says. “I think we should retire.”

*

Sara was sure was she was expecting but this powder-puff confection of a boudoir is not it. It’s everything she hates; an abundance of frills and floral prints and gilt. The bed is large, with an exquisite lace coverlet. 

“You said you weren’t sure what you wanted,” Mrs Williams says. She shuts the door behind them. “Are you happy then to take my instruction? I have been doing this a long time - I think I may know what you would find pleasing.”

“Whatever you think best, Mrs. Williams.”

She snorts - moves over to her vanity and removes something from a drawer. Sara knows what it is before she turns around. It is obscene - yet she has to stifle a moan when she presses her thighs together.

“I think it would be best,” Mrs Williams says, “If I bent you over the nightstand and took your innocence -” Sara flushes, and Mrs Williams laughs, “-a virgin, I thought so - in a way that any man would struggle to replicate. You would be laying there, underneath your husband, wanting something harder, deeper, longer. And you would return to me -”

“I’m not a total innocent,” Sara snaps, “I knew enough women at college who-”

“But never you, am I correct? You’ve always struggled to connect with other women. No kind aunts, no close friends. Only servants.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with why I’m here today.” 

Mrs. Williams raises her eyebrows. 

“My sweet girl, it has everything to do with why you’re here today. The camaraderie of men is fine, as is their admiration - but you would like a softer touch, hm? A gentle hand.”

“A gentle hand is hardly what I’d expect from you.”

“Cruelty can be gentle. Now. It’s time for you to undress, my dear.”

Sara’s gaze flicks towards the object in Mrs. Williams’ hand. 

“Not today,” Mrs. Williams says. “Alas. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“The first exercise is trust,” Mrs Williams says. “Now do you trust me not to do anything you haven’t yet agreed to?”

Sara closes her eyes.

“Good girl.”

A rustle of skirts and Mrs Williams is deftly and quickly removing her clothes; hooks and buttons undone, ribbons untied, and Sara is standing there wearing only her corset and shift. 

“Open your eyes.”

Sara does. 

“Now go and stand in front of the mirror.”

It is floor length mirror. Sara stares defiantly at her own reflection.  
“Tell me what you see, Miss Howard.”

“Me.”

“I suppose so. Boring answer - try again.”

“Miss Sara Howard, first woman to work for the New York City Police Department.”

“Mmm. Technically correct. But that’s not the right answer.”

“A twenty four year old woman. Blond hair, blue eyes. Slight. Slim.”

“Pretty?”

“People seem to think so.”

“Do you think so?”

Sarah studies her reflection.

“I - I’m not sure.”

“Take off your corset.”

Sara struggles, briefly, before Mrs Williams relents, unlacing her from its confines and dropping the hateful thing to the floor. 

“What did you just take off, Sara?”

“My corset.”

Mrs Williams rolls her eyes. Sara tries again.

“A thing that confines me.”

“Yes, and?”

“A thing that I am forced to wear.”

“Forced by whom?”

“Society. Men.”

A snort.

“If you say so, my dear.”  
Sara pulls off her chemise and stares at herself again. She considers - yes, she is slim. Her skin is soft, scrubbed, slightly perfumed. Her breasts are small. Her public hair is blond, wiry. She narrates this to Mrs. Williams.

“I’m surprised that someone who works with the eminent Doctor lacks so much insight,” Mrs. Williams says, laughing. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, sweet girl - you have told me. But you have not explained anything. Shall I tell you what I see?”

Sara is flushed and annoyed. She feels a perfect fool for coming her, for exposing herself to this creature. Mrs Williams moves so she is standing behind Sara - slightly taller, her head appears just above Sara’s shoulder.

“I will need to touch you to demonstrate. May I?”

“Yes,” Sara returns her stare.

“Well-”

The fingernails that scrape her thighs makes her shiver. 

“I see a girl so hot for it that she can’t think straight.”

Hands caress her waist and Mrs Williams kisses her neck. Sara shivers. 

“You’ve wrapped this up in some scientific inquiry, but it’s not about what you know - it’s about what you want.”

“I-”

“Shhh.”

Mrs. Williams slides her hand down the front of Sara’s body, dancing lightly across her pubis and - and -

“Oh-!” It’s a pathetic, mouse-like noise and she hates herself. But Mrs. Williams has found some spot, some delicious part of her, and is rubbing it gently. Her hips jolt forward. 

“You definitely want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sara breathes, helpless against the tide of pleasure. She knows she’s felt...aroused before. But she didn’t know there could be some way to build that tension into something sweet and hot and tight. But Mrs. Williams removes her hand, and once more, commands Sara to suck on her fingers. There is some part of her that screams in disgust but she still opens her mouth; perhaps later she will look back on that and try to examine it, that conflict between feeling and action but now she’s only aware of -

“Such a lovely young lady,” Mrs. Williams says, “I bet they all pant after you. Like dogs after a bitch.”

“They respect me,” Sara says, gritting her teeth. Perhaps she is not so lost that she cannot be offended by the familiar implication. “They listen to me.”

“Of course they do,” Mrs Williams coos, and slides her fingers back down in between Sara’s legs. “But they want you, don’t they? And you like them wanting you. It makes you feel powerful.”

“No-”

“Don’t lie to me,” a snarl, and a pinch, that makes her eyes water. “The world says that you are undesirable for the qualities that you prize most highly in yourself. But the way that they look at you proves the world wrong. Two men, sniffing at your skirts.”

“More than two, actually,” Sara snarls back.

“That’s more like it.”

Sara is rewarded by stronger, faster movements of those talented fingers, lighting some fire in her, some deep and dark tension, that builds and builds and builds until she comes apart, her legs shaking so hard that her knees almost give out.

Mrs. Williams guides her to the bed where she lays down, her head spinning and her lower parts throbbing. 

“Your first?” She inquires.

Sara finds it in herself to laugh.

“No. I quite enjoyed horseback riding when I was younger, and would take long rides alone-”

“Nothing like the feeling of a powerful beast between your legs, doing your bidding.”

“I was referring to the rubbing of the saddle against my -”

“-cunt,” Mrs. Williams supplies, helpfully.

“-But I’d never thought about it like that before.”

“So,” Mrs. Williams says, gently tracing the curve of one of Sara’s breasts before pinching one of her nipples. “Any insights you’d like to share?”

Sara looks at her. Again, Mrs. Williams is all feline - the satisfied look of a cat that is eating the bird it’s been toying with. 

“I think further inquiry is necessary.”


End file.
